Page 23 of Scoring the Player
“I asked him if he signs and then I was telling him that my dad is hard of hearing,” she says. “He doesn’t sign that often, but my mom and I took classes with him when I was in middle school. I’m rusty.”
“You did great,” Archer says with a wink.
“All right, are we doing this again?” Brogan asks. “I need redemption.”
I’m still staring at Dahlia. Every piece of information she gives, I want more.
“Can we join?” Bethany squeezes into the space between me and the next guy at the table. He takes one look at her and is all too happy to make room.
Fucking hell. I don’t want to be an asshole to make my point, but I want nothing to do with Bethany. She’s bad news. Just standing next to her reminds me what an idiot I was for falling for her.
Wouldn’t it be great if you could erase the bite of things said by shitty people, just by acknowledging they’re a terrible human? It should cancel it all out, any negative words or actions. But in my experience, it hasn’t. I still remember all the awful things she’s said and done, and I hate that I can’t shake it off as her flaws talking, instead of wondering if maybe she had a point.
“You go across from me, Carson.” She turns her head and gives me a totally fake, sweet smile. Then she looks past me to Dahlia. “Hi! I’m Bethany.”
“Dahlia.” She gives my ex a tight-lipped smile.
“You look, like, really,reallyfamiliar.”
“We had English Lit together last year,” Dahlia says.
“No. I don’t think that’s it.” Bethany brings a finger to her chin like she’s thinking. I still don’t know for sure if she was behind the video or not, but she’s trying to make Dahlia uncomfortable and I’m not having it, even if Dahlia has no idea that I used to date Bethany.
“Stop it, Bethany.” I regret the words as soon as I say them because Bethany’s smile turns smug.
“Oh my gosh,” she says. “You’re the girl from that video. Now the two of you together makes sense. No offense, but you’re not really his type.”
Dahlia’s face can’t hide the way Bethany’s words hit.
“Actually, she is exactly my type, which is why I asked her to be my girlfriend earlier tonight.”
Dahlia makes a choked, strangled sound and then hides it with a cough. I step closer and take her hand in mine. “Now that that’s settled, can we get the game going again? Start at the opposite end this time.”
I avoid the stares from my teammates and laser-beam evil eyes from Bethany, and eventually, the attention shifts from us as someone passes around a pitcher to refill our cups. I drop Dahlia’s hand to get us both beer, but as soon as we’re set, I put my arm around her neck and toy with her hair. I’m not sure why. Because I want to reassure her? Because I want to touch her? Because I want to piss off Bethany? Probably all the above.
I’m successful in at least two of those. Her skin feels so good—soft and warm, and being this close, I can smell her shampoo—something floral. It’s enough to make me forget, or at least not care, that Bethany is shooting daggers in our direction.
We play two more games. Dahlia is perfection each time and I’m totally digging seeing her like this. It’s not about Bethany at all when I pick her up and spin her around to celebrate three victories in a row. I’m just having a good time seeing her kick Brogan’s ass.
She lets out a little squeal and then wraps her arms around my neck. Fuck it feels good to have her body pressed against mine.
Not hooking up. Not hooking up. Not hooking up…tonight.
I stop and slowly lower her to the ground. Her pupils are wide, and her breathing picks up as she slides down my body. I feel better than I have in months.
“Are you two playing the next round or going to make out?” Brogan asks.
It takes me a second to realize he’s talking to us.
“What do you want to do?” I ask her.
“I can’t chug any more beer,” Dahlia says, and her delicate neck tightens as she swallows. Fuck, maybe we are going to make out.
“We’re out,” I tell them.
“Armstrong and I are out too,” Bethany says.
Everyone ignores her.
